


Getting Drunk and Fraternizing

by H4T08



Series: Behind the Door [3]
Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Dinner, Episode: s01e05 Phage, F/M, Flirting, Resistance is Futile, Wine, is it a good idea?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-10
Updated: 2017-07-10
Packaged: 2018-11-29 13:34:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11441958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/H4T08/pseuds/H4T08
Summary: Lightly squeezing her shoulder, he softens his voice so that she has to look at him through her lashes to hear, “Kathryn, we are just having dinner as two friends. If someone has something to say about it, then so be it.” Giving her a reassuring smile, he mischievously adds, “Besides, it isn’t like we’re doing something illegal.”





	Getting Drunk and Fraternizing

**Author's Note:**

> Set before the Phage.
> 
> Italics implies characters thoughts.

Just as her door opens, Kathryn sticks out her head and looks both ways down the corridor to find it satisfactorily barren. Timidly crossing the barrier to place the tips of her toes on the carpet, she lets out a breath when nothing dramatically happens. Placing one foot in front of the other, she begins the same fearful trek down the now shorter path to her first officer’s new quarters. Although her steps become more confident, she can’t help but to continue to spy over her shoulder to check if someone is following her. _Mind, I'm in a simple dress and carrying a bottle of wine. If the lack of uniform wasn’t enough to incite curiosity, then the bottle of wine would to any passing member of the crew – especially those who are still resistant to the many changes we've had to make in the name of survival._

Facing his door at the prospect of being invited in as a friend rather than a colleague, she lifts her finger to press the chime. Abruptly stopping a mere centimeter away, she pulls her finger into her fist as the same sense of fear coats her stomach and has her thinking twice – for the millionth time – about canceling their plans.

_Last time I was here under the guise as a friend, there was an invisible pull, a sizzling heat – something! – that blossomed between us. Whatever it is that seems to catapult me back to a shy teenage girl, I don't want to stir this pot far more than I have to._

Despite the fact that she wouldn't want to betray Mark, she doesn't want them to loose the respect that they have worked so hard at obtaining from both crews. Everyone looks to them for guidance. What would happen if they somehow fell into the pleasurable yet deadly trap of a clandestine relationship? _It’s a small ship with a small compliment, people would notice_.

Hearing voices just beyond the corner, she reaches out and continually presses the chime with a slight panic. Just as she feels as if she is going to be caught walking into Chakotay’s quarters in a less than professional manner, the door slides open and she quickly steps into the safety of his quarters and hides against the wall next to the door.

For his part, Chakotay's surprise drowns when he sees a few of the old Maquis officers walking by. As they stop to see if he is going to join them towards the mess hall, he shakes his head and claims that he had forgotten something in his room and promises to see them later. Pressing the button to close the door, he subconsciously lets out a baited breath as he turns toward his pale captain – _no, friend_ , he silently admonishes. Reaching out to place a calming hand on her shoulder, he is shaken to feel her trembling under his fingertips.

Opening her eyes to the curious warmth trickling down from her shoulder from his palm, she takes a few shaky deep breaths as she relaxes her tightened grip around the neck of the bottle. “I’m sorry. I just don’t know how the crew would react to the sight of the Starfleet Captain and the Maquis Captain having a quite dinner in one of their quarters.” Rolling her eyes to kingdom come, a mirthful laugh erupts from her lips, “This is ridiculous.”

Lightly squeezing her shoulder, he softens his voice so that she has to look at him through her lashes to hear, “Kathryn, we are just having dinner as two friends. If someone has something to say about it, then so be it.” Giving her a reassuring smile, he mischievously adds, “Besides, it isn’t like we’re doing something illegal.”

Cocking her head to the side, her captain’s mask comes out in full force when she questions, “Fraternizing with the enemy of the Federation? That is definitely illegal.” Softening her features, she quietly adds, “But the sentiment is appreciated.” Lifting the bottle between their close bodies, she murmurs, “I've brought some wine.” Slipping out from his hypnotizing touch, she quips over her shoulder, “It’s the closest thing I had to peach schnapps in my limited reserve.”

Letting out a laugh that pleasantly comes from the pit of his belly, he follows her and uncovers a dish that he had prepared for their evening together. It took some bartering to secure double the food from Neelix, but he would gladly starve just for a little taste of the already comfortable camaraderie that they share together. “I honestly don’t know what the hell I made, but Mr. Neelix ensured me that if I cooked it a certain way, I would taste delicious.” Turning to gather some glasses from under his replicator, he hesitantly adds, “Somehow, I feel that it doesn’t comfort me, but the wine should help.”

Sitting in their respective chairs, both pick up their forks and take a nibble of the steaming blanched food. Licking her lips, she takes a sip of the wine to wash down the slightly bitter taste and comments under her breath, “Maybe we should have Mr. Neelix provide wine with dinner every night.”

Taking a bigger scoop on his fork, a smile carries along his lips as he supplies, “Knowing Mr. Neelix, he would probably say that this meal is full of nutrients, vitamins, and protein and would quickly admonish us for being a spoiled race.” Shoving the helping into his mouth, he takes a big sip to wash it down. “It’s funny… I never considered myself as being spoiled until coming into the Delta Quadrant.”

Humming her agreement, she picks at bits and pieces of her food with her fork in one hand as she twirls her glass of wine in the other. “How do you like your new quarters?” 

He looks around the room and shrugs his shoulders, “Too big from what I'm used to, but I think in time, they will do just fine.” Taking a small sip just to keep his hands busy, he silkily adds over the rim of his "I can't help but notice that we are next door neighbors.” He takes a small sip and asks, "Anything that I should be made aware of with my new neighbor?"

Glancing up from her twirling fork, her heart pounds against her throat at the fire of lust she sees darkening his eyes. _It's a challenge_ , she surmises, _and one that he can never win_. Demurely smiling, she slowly nods her head, “Yes, we have rather thin walls between quarters. So if you're going to be entertaining a lady friend, you need to make sure you keep the noises to a minimal level.”

Tipping his head back, a deep laughter erupts from his throat. _Point, set, match. This win goes to the Cap – Kathryn_. “Dually noted.”

Letting a more comfortable silence surround them as they eat the rest of their dinner, both find it a bit strange that, even though this is their first time sharing a dinner together, they move with ease and a knowledge as if they have been friends – or something more – for a long time. For Chakotay, he smiles at the coziness of their new relationship; whereas for Kathryn, it’s a touch unnerving.

After the food is devoured, Chakotay stands and clears the plates while Kathryn fills their third glass of wine. “You know getting drunk with an enemy of the Federation is frowned upon as well.”

Letting his dimples show in all their glory, he quips with a raised eyebrow, “Getting drunk and fraternizing, ehh? Sounds like a good time to me.” Taking his glass of wine from the table, he leans in behind her and murmurs in her ear, “But I guess it also depends on the type of fraternization that is occurring.”

Feeling her skin erupt in goosebumps, her breath hitches as the warmth of his breath tickles her ear lobe. Peering over her shoulder, she is slightly taken off guard to see that he is still oh-so-close to her. Staring at his mouth, a jolt of electricity powers through every inch of her skin when his tongue darts out to lick his dry lips. Feeling her throat closing, she whispers, “The bad kind that can heard through thin walls.” Glancing up and taking in the fire that darkens his eyes yet again, the taste of anticipation makes both breathless, yet in dire need of more.

But they can’t.

She turns away from him and settles to sit down on his couch. Trying with all of her might to fan away the desire that paints her cheeks a bright red, she stalls looking at him by taking a sip of her wine and spying around his room. Leaning forward she takes in the stone on the table. It has an intricate yet simple pattern. Knowing that most of his possessions were destroyed on his ship, she somehow finds it comforting that he is using his skill to make his quarters his own.

Sitting down next to her, he explains, “My father was always proud of his heritage. At the time, I thought it was more of a nuisance, but after he died, I had an overwhelming need to pick up the skills he had always wanted to show me.”

Slightly turning her head to him, she flicks her finger towards his forehead and asks, “Is that why you got that?”

Tracing the design with his fingertips, a ghost of a smile flitters across his mouth as he wistfully tells her, “I got this in honor of my father. He had received his from our ancient people.” After a beat, he confesses, “His death is one of the reasons why I left Starfleet and joined the Maquis.”

She actually is not surprised by that little nugget of information, but she is taken back by the pain she sees creasing along his brow. On their own accord to help comfort him, her fingers timidly trace along the continuous path of his tattoo. Reveling in the sizzling heat she finds herself drawn to and starving for the touch of more of his skin, her fingers glide down to caress his cheek and jaw. She knows without a doubt that she should not be doing this, but, for the life of her, she can’t stop. She doesn't want to stop.

Closing his eyes to memorize the warmth from her gentle touch, tiny fireworks silently explode behind his closed lids. Tilting his head to give her more skin to explore, he lazily opens his eyes to see that she is staring at him with such an intensity that it nearly knocks him across the room. The desire he feels in her fingers doesn’t match the guilt flashing behind her eyes. Knowing he has to put a stop to this, he captures her hand and pulls it away from his needy skin. Selfishly kissing the inside of her wrist before pulling away, he leans against the back of the couch and tries to reign in the summersault of emotions rushing through his body. _Spirits, I fucking want her_ , but quickly admonishes that sinful thought from his mind.

His feather light kiss electrocutes her mind out of her hazy desire to feel another man lying next to her in bed. Feeling embarrassment stealing the color from her cheeks, she leans back as well. Inwardly smiling as her shoulder graces his, she takes another sip of her wine. _Maybe it’s the alcohol_ , her mind reasons to the wonderment of their palatable anticipation.

As if he can read her mind, he breaths out, “What is it about you that makes me as nervous as a sixteen year old boy out on his first date with a woman twenty years older?”

She perks her brow up in curiosity and huskily quips, “That sounds like a fascinating story to tell.”

Playfully rolling his eyes, he tells, “My father was on one of his quests and, refusing to join him, I was by the pool at this little hotel we were staying at near Rio. This woman came up to me and started talking to me out of nowhere. Being all of sixteen, all I could focus on was her bathing suit – or lack thereof.” Blushing at the memory of the tiny bikini covering her voluptuous curves, he clears his throat to continue, “She asked me to keep her company by going out to dinner with her. Bored out of my mind and being sixteen, I went.” Throwing the last bit of his wine to wet his dry mouth, he croaks, “I was nervous and excited at the same time and I think she did it for more of her amusement.” Wanting to stop right there, he stares and swirls the glass between his fingers.

Wanting him to finish his story, she rolls her hand throuth the air and pushes, “That’s not the end of the story.”

Shrugging his shoulders, he confesses, “What’s there to tell? We did the naughty things that would make fraternization look like child’s play.” Sweeping up the condensation from his glass with his thumb, he quietly adds, “She thought I was eighteen.”

Letting her glass lay against the covered skin just above her breast, she finds herself saying, “My first time was with a school sweetheart. He was leaving for the Daystrom Institute and I knew that we would not see each other after he left. I have to admit,” she looks over at him and implores, “and this stays between us, that my first time was quite possibly the worst one I ever had.” Letting a small laugh bubble out from her lips, she goes on, “We were both fumbling around like two lost and, quite frankly, inexperienced rabbits.” Taking in her last sip of wine, she breaths along the rim, “The next day he left and I never saw him again.”

Giving her a small smile, he lifts his cup and cheers, “And here we are… with empty glasses.” Mesmerized by the buzzing from both the alcohol and the closeness of her skin, he murmurs, “I’m glad you came over for dinner.” He almost added that he didn’t want her to leave, that he wanted her to stay with him in his bed, but stopped short when she laid her head on his shoulder and mumbled her own thanks.

Attraction by definition is the power of evoking a liking for someone. Within the span of the last two months, she subconsciously confesses that the attraction she has for her first officer has her giddy like that school girl many years ago, yet, scared at the power it has over her. She should not be thinking these things and having these emotions, but it slips in her mind like a thief in the night and encourages her to come back for more. Now as her head lays along his strong shoulder and he catches one of her stolen glances, she wonders if she should stop.

Feeling the stare of her expressive eyes boring into him, he feels trapped as if he is caught in her tractor beam. Knowing what they both want, yet, also knowing that they can’t cross that line, he tries to think of something else to distract them both.

But it’s useless.

Magnetized by a power that is beyond their resistance, both lean in to the pull of their lips. Just as their heated breaths mingle and set fire to the room around them, the beep from his communicator tears them apart at the last minute.

“Tuvok to Commander Chakotay. There has been an incident between Crewmen Tellers and Koana. I have set them in the brig for the night.”

Rolling his eyes at the scuffles that still plague their ship, he responds, “Very well. Leave them in there for the night to give them a chance to cool down. I will speak to both of them tomorrow. Chakotay out.”

Just as he taps the end of the communication, she places her glass on the table in front of her and stands from her perch on the couch. Guilt, embarrassment, fear, anxiety... all of it rushes through her body as her heart continues to pound raggedly against her chest. 

 _What were we about to do? She has a fiancé for spirits sake!_  Timidly lifting himself up behind her, he reaches out to place his palm on her shoulder when he abruptly stops and lets it fall back down to his side.

“We shouldn’t be doing this.”

Her words collide into his chest. She’s right, of course, but he selfishly wants to deny it.

At his silence, she makes her way to the door. She silently begs for him to deny it, but she knows that he won’t. _It’s quite lonely when you're the only one at the top_.

Keeping his hands by his side, a treacherous imagine of pushing her against the wall and begging with his lips for her to stay clambers in his mind. Clapping his hands behind his back, he quietly asks, “Can we still have dinner?”

Stopping just before the door, the determination in her shoulders to leave slumps. Looking up towards the ceiling for an answer, she shakes her head and whispers, “I don’t know. I don’t think we should.” Just as her finger hovers over the release, she quickly adds over her shoulder, “At least until we can control whatever it is that is possessing us.” Opening the door, she glances both ways before stepping out with no other glance back.

Feeling his body deflate in rejection, his heart thrills at even the minuscule chance that they can still share these nights together in the future.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Dang it, Tuvok!


End file.
